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ssahoodrathotchner · 11 months

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I’m Lost Without You

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Summary: when a case goes wrong, Aaron’s the only one who can get you out of your head

Word Count: 1.5k words

Warnings: swearing, angst, blood, canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, Aaron being sweet

A/N: aaaaaand i’m back again with some angst. This idea literally wouldn’t leave me alone so here we are. Somewhat inspired by lady macbeth’s “out damned spot” soliloquy but like only in the hand washing and not the actual stabbing of a guy bit

Masterlist

---

There’s blood under your fingernails and it won’t go away.

The fluorescent lighting of the police station bathroom illuminates the red under your nails, taunting you with the results of your failure.

You scrub harder, bordering on frantic as pink water swirls its way down the drain.

Your fault.

---

It was too easy.

Women in their twenties going missing from a college campus after attending events put on by the history faculty.

Narrowing down the lists of professors, students, and staff led to three possible unsubs, one of which had a previous record for assault and battery six years prior.

It was too easy.

Everything was seamless. Reid’s geographic profile, Garcia’s information on the unsub’s records, Emily and JJ’s deductions based on victim type all led you to believe that you had the right person and prevented her from finding the next victim.

The team cornered the unsub in her office during a meeting with her TA, who was part of the whole takedown operation—your idea.

But.

Your fault your fault your fault.

As soon as Morgan breached the doorway the professor, Dr. Jennifer Coleman, pulled a handgun from her desk and shot her TA. Point blank. In the chest.

The rest of the takedown is a blur.

Immediately, you pushed past Morgan and began assessing Celia – the TA, her name is Celia—while the rest of the team swarms in around you to subdue Dr. Coleman.

Erratic heartbeat, stuttering breaths, wide eyes. Wide green eyes.

Your hands go to her chest, pressing down on the wound, staunching the blood as much as you can with your bare hands.

Not enough not enough not enough.

It’s not enough.

Celia Townsend is declared dead on the arrival of the EMTs, weeks from graduating with her masters in anthropology.

She was twenty-seven.

Your fault your fault your fault.

You watch as the body bag is zipped up.

There’s blood under your fingernails.

---

The door creaks open behind you, and your eyes flash up to the mirror to see who’s joined you in your futile attempt to rid your hands of the blood.

“Hey.”

It’s Emily.

You meet her eyes in the mirror before turning your attention back to your hands.

“Hey,” you say softly.

“You’ve been in here a while,” she starts, cautious. “Are you okay?”

“I’m—” your voice catches.

You scrub harder.

Your fault your fault your fault.

“Hey,” she says again, moving to catch your elbow. “Hey, careful, careful. Your hands…” She trails off as you take a moment to look over at her.

“There’s…” you pause. “The blood. Under my nails. I can’t get it to go away.”

Gently, Emily takes one of your hands in hers and holds it up and you can see it. See the stains under your nails, the signs of your futile attempt to save the life of Celia. The girl you sent to her death.

You hold your breath as Emily tilts your hand under the light, the blood a dull red where you haven’t scrubbed hard enough.

“I have just the thing,” she states, squeezing your hand before ducking back out the door.

You turn back to the sink and immerse your hands once again as the door swings shut.

The blood is still fucking there.

---

It’s Aaron who comes through the door after an indeterminate amount of time has passed.

You glance at him in the mirror before turning your attention back to your hands.

Your fault your fault your fault.

He moves until he’s next to you, silent. Watching.

“Sweetheart—” he begins softly. “Can you take a step back for me?”

You exhale sharply. “Not until it’s gone.”

“Until what’s gone?”

“The blood, Aaron. Celia’s blood. It won’t come out from under my nails,” your voice shakes as you pause and watch the water swirl down the drain under your hands.

“Sweetheart,” he tries again. “There’s no more blood.”

What?

“No, it’s—right there, it’s there, Aaron, see?” you frantically point at your hands, the red under your nails, the red that’s haunted you since watching the ambulance pull away. “It’s right there!”

Why can’t he see it?

Aaron’s hands engulf yours and he pulls them to his chest, turning your body into his as he steps closer until your head is tucked under his chin.

The water shuts off, but you can still feel it running over your hands, through your fingers. Warm. Incredibly warm and real and red—

“Take a breath, Sweetheart. The blood is gone, it’s gone,” he says, holding both your hands in one of his you he can tilt your chin up until your eyes meet.

“But—”

“Shhhh it’s gone. It’s all gone, Sweetheart.”

Aaron studies your face for a moment before something in his own expression fractures and he wraps both arms around you, tucking his face against the top of your head as the gently rocks the both of you.

You let your eyes close and you lean into his body, grasping weakly at his jacket.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head and the two of you don’t let go of each other.

Then the tears start.

Between one moment and the next your breath catches and tears start to seep from under your closed eyes. Face buried in Aaron’s chest, you give in and let yourself cry.

You cry for Celia, for the life she could have lived. For your own guilt and the weight that’s been steadily crushing your lungs since your hands made contact with Celia’s blood.

You cry for yourself. For the knowledge that you can’t save everyone, no matter how hard you try or how good your plan is.

You can’t.

Not your fault.

You become vaguely aware that Aaron’s muttering reassurances into your hair, and you listen closer to hear a litany of “You tried, Sweetheart, it’s okay. You got the blood, you got it. Take a breath, darling, it’s okay. I love you, and it’s okay.”

It’s easy to lean further into his embrace, to insistently push your head under his chin and exhale slowly as you let the tears finish tracking down your cheeks.

“Please don’t leave me,” you whisper, “I know you won’t, not now, but. I just. I don’t want to be alone,” you take a shaky breath. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Never,” you feel him breathe against the top of your head. Aaron pulls back to press a long kiss to your forehead. “Never, Sweetheart.”

“Thank you, Love,” gratitude evident in the way your body loses its tension.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Aaron asks hesitantly, hands tightening around your body.

“Not now,” you respond immediately. “I can’t—it’s just—not now. Later, I think. Later.”

“That’s fine, Sweetheart. Later is fine. Or never, but I’m always here if you want to talk.”

He pulls you closer for a moment before pulling back to tip your head up, placing a kiss on your cheek before turning your face to repeat the action on the other side.

You open your eyes, prying apart eyelids that feel too heavy, and look directly into the warm gaze that awaits yours.

“…I want to go home,” you confess. “I can’t be here any longer, Aaron.”

“So we go home, Sweetheart. I’ll tell the team to rally and we’ll have the jet ready in two hours. They should be wrapping up the interrogation shortly,” he responds with a soft smile.

The relief that spreads through your body is a welcome reprieve from the frantic terror that had taken over your mind for however long it’s been.

A thought strikes you “My hands—the blood,” you start.

“—Isn’t there anymore, Sweetheart. Take a look,” Aaron consoles you, pulling both of your hands into your field of vision. “The blood is gone.”

Slowly, you let your vision drift to your hands, expecting to see the reddish stain that you haven’t been able to escape and yet—

It’s gone.

The red is gone.

You pull away from Aaron completely, holding your hands up to the light, twisting them back and forth to catch every possible angle and it’s gone. The blood under your nails is finally gone.

Slumping forward, you close your eyes as your face falls into the crook of Aaron’s neck, shuddering through your next few breaths.

“It’s gone,” you mumble.

“It is, Sweetheart,” he answers. “Let’s go home.”

“Home,” you agree. “Let’s go home, Love.”

Pressing another kiss to your forehead, Aaron takes a moment to swipe a damp paper towel across your face and take away the dried tear tracks, tenderly turning your head back and forth to make sure he got all the remnants of your breakdown.

You lean forward, slowly, letting Aaron meet you halfway in a kiss that soothes your nerves in its familiarity. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull back enough to let your lips rest lightly on Aaron’s, enough to brush his as you smile for the first time in what seems like an eternity.

“Thank you, Love,” you say softly. “I love you.”

“I love you more, Sweetheart,” he responds, just as gentle.

And you know that Aaron, always Aaron, will be there on the good days and the bad no matter what.

--- Taglist: @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @averyhotchner @prentisswrites @mylovelysnowflake @hqtchner @fakin-it-til-i-make-it @emlynblack @clarawatson @andromedasstarship @madamsnape921 @mac99martin @midsummernightdream @itsmytimetoodream @homoose @whosscruffylooking @agentaaronhotass @thenewnormalforensicator @myloveofcmreid @ssahotchie @romanogersendgame

#andi writes #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #cm fanfic

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andromedaexists · 3 months

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GENRE

Fiction - Religious Horror

STATUS

Final Drafting (hoping to send to editor at the end of the month!)

AESTHETIC / TROPES

Religious trauma, Religion in general, queer characters, questioning faith, finding horror in the holy, if you look too closely at the holy...., spiraling mental health, psychosis

(it got kinda long so I put the rest of the info under the cut :) )

SUMMARY

Be Not Afraid Those three words have haunted me my entire life, and now I'm close. I know I am. I'm close to finding out the truth behind the words, the truth behind the Seraphim. The closer I get to uncovering the truth, to proving that the Seraphim are real, the further my mind slips. I can't sleep - can't dream - without seeing them. Life has become difficult all of a sudden and I know it's tied to them. I just have to keep going, keep learning, keep discovering. Everything will be better once I complete my research... Incorrect Eyes is a psychological religious horror involving paranoia, angels with too many eyes, and the least mentally stable protagonist I’ve ever written. Please read with caution. Content Warnings: bodily mutilation, extreme paranoia, eye things (including disembodied eyes, being watched at all times, and removal of eyes), fear and terror, psychosis

MAIN CHARACTERS

Hunter (he/him) - the main character who’s POV we get. I think this might be the only time his name is mentioned, but he is the eyes we see the story through (pun intended, you'll understand later). Hunter is a trans queer man who was raised Roman Catholic, only to be pushed out of his church. To this day, Catholicism is a special interest of his and that's why he's here. He's also the least mentally stable protag I've ever written

The Seraphim (unk) - Well... you'll see...

MASTERLIST

GoodReads

That's it so far

TAGLIST

@winterandwords @crypticcodexcreations @inkspellangel @smol-feralgremlin @/joswriting @/love-whatit-loves @/annetillney

Please fill out this form to be added or ask to be removed!

#Novella: Incorrect Eyes #wip intro #wip #wip update #writeblr #writing #wupdate #adult fantasy #dark fantasy #andi writes #horror #amwriting #am writing #horror novella

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cafecitowriter · 4 months

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Bring Me You (Steggy Fic)

Summary: Steve decides to return to the past to live a life with Peggy, but nothing about his arrival goes according to plan.

It’s arguably the weirdest day of Peggy’s life.

A/N: Merry Steggymas, @roboticonography! I'm your Secret Santa!

You said you enjoyed canon and canon-divergent fics, snappy banter, swoon-worthy romantic gestures, comic misunderstandings, and of course, a good ole happy ending. So I hope you enjoy some post-Endgame hijinks where Steve tries to go back to Peggy, but ends up running into basically everyone else first.

Due to a combination of personal stuff and the fact that I've been travelling with spotty internet connections, unfortunately your gift is not done as I had hoped, and while I was so happy to hear the deadline has been extended, my current schedule means that it still won't be finished by then. BUT in the meantime, I do have this preview to share with you below, as well as this funky lil graphic. The full (multi-chaptered) fic will be finished and uploaded hopefully later in the early-ish new year.

Title taken from the song I Told Santa Claus to Bring Me You by Bernie Cummins and His Orchestra (which is about as holiday-y as this fic gets).

As always, thanks to @steggyfanevents for hosting!!

Fic Preview:

He’s hardly been sat in the squeaky booth for thirty seconds before one of the serves - a woman with bouncy curls and bright blue eyes - swoops in on him, half full coffee pot in hand.

“A coffee for your troubles?” she offers, not bothering to wait for an answer before pouring it into the mug that she must have brought over with her, because it certainly hadn’t been there when he arrived.

“You think I look troubled?”

“I think you look like trouble,” she teases with a breezy wink, clearly proud of herself for landing her own set up. “But that’s just my intuition. It’s what happens when you’ve been around here long enough.”

Despite her strong come on, she has a genuine warmness to her demeanour that makes Steve smile.

“You’ve been working here long?”

“Not anymore, actually - and good riddance let me tell you. I was never cut out for this line of work. But it’s my day off from rehearsals and Ruth called in a panic because two people called in sick and Marlene’s still out with her ‘sprained ankle’, and believe me, if it had been anyone else I would’ve said no but Ruth stuck her neck out for me during the peach cobbler incident of ’47 and now I basically owe her my first born.”

The woman stalls to give an obvious side eye to the counter where there’s another woman wearing an identical uniform - a redhead who’s been wiping the same spot on the counter since Steve arrived - before turning back to him with a lower voice. “Although if she had told me Babs was going to be here I would’ve pretended to be on the other side of the country. Which come to think of it was probably why she didn’t tell me- oh shoot, your sugar shaker’s empty, let me get-”

“I’m alright, thanks,” he interrupts quickly, both because he hasn’t taken a drop of sugar in his coffee since the one time Tony made him try one of those fancy lattes shortly after the Chitauri attack, and because if she left now, he wasn’t sure when she would be back to take his order.

“You’re plenty sweet yourself, is that it?”

Steve shrugged, but gave her a smile all the same.

“Honestly, I’m just hungry.”

#steggy #steggysecretsanta #andi writes

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ellen-reincarnated1967 · 1 year

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You had locked yourself inside your old room at the bunker, for what seemed like forever, but was really only going on for less than a week. The brothers didn’t know what to do, the Angel didn’t know how to ask, and you didn’t offer an explanation.

You had driven two days, 18 hours, and 45 minutes, state lines blurring as the sky opened up. You stopped twice to use a bathroom and gas up, mainlining caffeine and salt and vinegar chips. You pulled up to the bunker, left your car idling, pounded on the door, and waited.

Dean was the first to greet you, a gun pointed at your chest, his anticipatory greeting for unexpected guests, while Sam rounded his six, back up gun at the ready. One look at your face, the streaks of day old mascara leaving tiny rivulets on your pale face, bags heavy under your eye, the slight quiver in your lips, their guns lowered, their arms relaxed.

The door swung open wider to let you in, the slam of the metal locking into place, made you jump. Dean’s hand found itself resting atop your shoulder, while Sam held you at arm’s length.

“Y/N,” Sam’s voice full of urgency and concern, “what happened?”

Tears slowly fell from your eyes, the ache in your chest, tightening at the loss of words choking their way to your lips. With a shake of your head, you whispered, “Not now, Sammy.”

“Who do we have to kill?” Dean growled.

A slight chuckle broke through your sobs, your bones finally at rest, as you dropped your duffel with finality, “Thanks for the offer, Dean,” your lip turned up slightly in amusement, “but I’m too tired to take you up on it at the moment.”

“But we do get to give someone a whole lotta hurt?” He countered.

“Damn straight you do,” you patted him on the chest, “but first sleep.”

“Then you can go punch and kick until he’s blue in the face or dead,” you mumbled down the long hallway to the room you abandoned a few years back to live a normal life.

“We’ll be here when you’re rested up, Y/N,” Sam pulled you into his chest, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Thanks, Sam,” you pecked him on the cheek, about to close the door over, but Dean stuck his foot out, jamming it ajar, “we’re just down that’a’way,” he jutted his thumb, “if you need us.”

��I’ll find ya in the morning,” you promised.

Tags: @mrswhozeewhatsis @manawhaat @wheresthekillswitch @pinknerdpanda @rizlowwritessortof @impala-dreamer @impalaimagining @crashdevlin @saxxxology @thorne93 @mamaredd123 @d-s-winchester @teamfreewill-imagine

#sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #y/n x wichesters #I don’t know what this is #I’m going through alot #personal #wish I had these guys in my corner #andi writes #spn fanfic

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shadeyjade · 2 years

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seasons

levi ackerman finding you alone

"Just relax."

There was something about his voice. A clear and smooth tune that hummed from his mouth, letting out words that strung a chord in your heart to patter in erratic beats. It was unpredictable. Ambivalent as the weather that shifted and transformed. Turning from a cold and raging winter storm that had you shivering, rigid on sharp ice that pierced you to a heated summer breeze that consumed you, hot rays on exposed skin and flesh, melting your insides warm. Yet, those two words were crisp and low, a gentle murmur slipping from his mouth, lulling your stomach to flutter just as the feeling of autumn fall.

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman imagines #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman drabble #levi aot #levi x reader #levi imagine #levi fluff #levi drabble #levi smut #levi angst #levi attack on titan #attack on titan #aot x reader #snk #shingeki no kyojin #andi writes

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andromedainruins · 1 year

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Homework || Starting a Novel

This homework for SAN is due on Monday, Feb. 13th. We are to read pages 48-69 (nice) in The Elements of Fiction.

Because this post contains my writing, I have decided to throw in a read more. This post is rather long, and though I would not care about that thanks to the new ‘expand post’ feature, I do care about the ability to remove my writing in the future if needed during the publishing process.

-List points you would like to remember from each of Mosley's four sections on description.

Physical Description A Note On Details - “And you have to remember: only the important, the salient, the revealing details should be used in describing any place, situation, person, or thing. These details can’t seem so important when we read them, but they are the necessary building blocks of the world that the reader will have to believe in” pg. 56 - “You and the reader make the novel” pg. 56 Description: Odds and Ends Emotional Description - “Describing emotion needs to be tied to character and how that person manifests [their] heart—consciously and unconsciously. It’s like real like—only deeper” pg. 62 Description as Poetry - “You need poetry in your life or your words will never sing with the divinity of the ordinary” pg. 65 Describing an Idea - I don’t like that he uses ‘hard science’ and ‘soft science’, but I like those two paragraphs. Coming from a dual Chemistry and Psychology background, there is no such thing as a ‘soft science’, there is only science. However, I do agree with Mosley that theories common in Psychology and Sociology are much, much harder to describe because they are abstract ideas and not physical, tangible things.

-Write a brief description of a place your protagonist frequents, from that character's point of view (using either first- or third-person), when they are happy to be there; then write another brief description of the same place, from the same character's point of view, when they are angry or frustrated. Each description should be written as if part of a scene.

The scent of old leather and well-worn pages greeted Kit as he opened the door to the Church’s library. As he stepped through the threshold he took in a deep breath, God he loved that smell. In Kit’s mind, there was no better place to be than the library with its abundance of old knowledge and peaceful atmosphere. He used to come here all the time back when he was in seminary, though it has been a while since he had visited the shelves of tomes.

He was glad to be back, even if it was only to look for long forgotten scripture.

—

The doors slammed closed behind him as he tried to keep himself from exploding with anger. A hand was raised and clenched in his hair. How did it come to this?

Tears started to fall, running warm tracks across his cheeks. With a shuddering breath, Kit turned around and realized that in his desperate need to be alone he had run to the library: the one room he still held affection for in this cursed building.

He could still smell the worn leather and dusty shelves around him through the sharp tang of his own tears, and that brought him some comfort. It brought some consolation that even as everything in his life came crashing down around him, this place had stayed the same.

How did it come to this?

#andi studies #andi writes #studyblr #Class: Starting A Novel #homework

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6kate1bishop6 · 2 months

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desperately trying to figure out the floorplan for a hypothetical apartment im writing but somehow i keep on coming up with something that looks worryingly close to the apartment in fraiser

#maybe all the times it was on when i was asleep have invaded my subconscious #i feel like i should make a writing tag #but also that i dont make my own posts often enough for it to be consistent #well not consistent but used at all #andi posts into the void #andi writes #25/2/2024

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weallpartyatybcpatricksfuneral · 2 months

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tttyg era where vampire pete finds ybcpatrick and takes him home. sees a fucked up kid and goes. hm you're mine now:) sing in my emo band boy

#on a serious note i would like to write this maybe #where tttyg vamp pete finds ybcpatrick hiding out in some abandoned building #and at first he doesn't like the kid but then he sees the extensiveness of his injuries and sees that hes only joes age.#so he takes him back home to andy and joe and help him heal #me posts #ybcpatrick the guy ever

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andypantsx3 · 24 days

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𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike. All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother, steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 5.7k | chapter 1 of 4

Then

It was a freezing day in spring the first time you set foot in the Todoroki house.

You had shared a class with Touya for years now, and in that time you’d become something of his best friend. You’d bonded early over a mutual hatred of fish and your status as the two best tree climbers on the playground—two integral friendship quality bars if ever you’d met them—and your entente had strengthened over the following months.

After enough time together Touya had even seemed to like you, seeking out your opinion, deploying you like a shield between himself and the other kids. He wanted to be paired with you for group projects constantly, as he seemed to disdain the ability of the other kids in your class.

He eventually acquiesced to two other friends—Rumi and Keigo—as Keigo was a really fast runner, and Rumi could kick a kid almost clear across a playground. But the two of you remained particularly close, and a few years in, Touya had seemed to want to check the final box of your friendship.

That was the day he’d haughtily informed you that you were coming home with him.

You’d phoned your mother from the school office to obtain permission, and then pulled your jacket on to follow Touya out into the cold, his skinny legs beating a quick path through the streets.

You’d half-expected that Touya lived in a box behind a shop, with the way he descended ravenously on his lunches (as well as yours, and Rumi’s, when he could occasionally get them—though notably not Keigo’s, something that had only retroactively made sense to you as an adult). But the house Touya steered you to was enormous—easily the biggest house you’d ever seen—a stately pile at the end of a fancy neighborhood.

You’d later learn this was because his father was the mayor, and the Todorokis were neck-deep in generational wealth. At the time you’d been mildly annoyed, because what had you let him eat part of your lunches for if he lived in a house like this?

“I’m home,” Touya had called into the echoey foyer, grand but strangely barren. He’d kicked off his coat and shoes, discarding them carelessly—perhaps purposefully—on the floor, then gestured for you to follow him into the kitchen as a warm voice called out to him. “Welcome home, Touya.”

“I brought Y/N,” he announced grandly as he prowled into the room. To you he said, “This is my mother, Rei.”

The voice you’d heard resolved itself into a woman, tall, with beautiful long white hair and a small, but unmistakably fond smile on her mouth. You startled, immediately floored by her beauty. She looked just like Touya, the same delicate prettiness to her mouth, the shape of her eyes—but even lovelier. She looked simultaneously like she belonged on the cover of a magazine, and would be embarrassed by one saying so.

She also smelled like an omega—sweet, but a little wilder than you were used to. Like spring flowers blooming on a cold day.

“Hello Y/N,” she said warmly, turning to you. You gave a shy wave back, suddenly nervous in front of her.

As she turned you finally noticed the child on her hip—a small, round, pudgy little thing with half red and half white hair, and two mismatched grey and blue eyes that pinned on you immediately. It was wearing a horrendous polkadot onesie, and you felt your eyebrows raise without your permission.

“That’s Shouto,” Touya informed you, and the pieces slotted together in your brain. Ah, so that was the face to the name.

Shouto was the little brother Touya complained about incessantly—the one that was his father’s favorite, the one that stared too much and wanted to play with all of Touya’s toys even though he was too little for them, the one Touya was saddled with babysitting constantly. He’d made Shouto out to be this sort of tiny harbinger of evil—but Shouto did not look very evil, perched there on his mother’s hip.

He blinked at you, a flutter of surprisingly long eyelashes, for a baby. You had the thought that actually he was kind of cute. Most probably not a harbinger of evil, and actually very sweet-looking, if weirdly round.

“I need to be excused from Shouto duty,” Touya said, the question posed more like a statement.

Rei shook her head, a somber little smile playing about her mouth. “I have to make dinner before Fuyumi and Natsuo get back from their playdates and your father gets home. Why don’t you take Shouto to play with you and Y/N?”

Touya rolled his eyes in the long-suffering manner of a man who’d endured it all. Shouto didn’t seem to notice, however, his mismatched gaze barely detaching from your face. You noticed Shouto’s left eye was the exact vivid blue of Touya’s, and his other eye the same silver as his mother’s.

“He’s staring like a weirdo,” Touya complained, but collected Shouto from Rei anyway. Shouto let himself be passed over as placidly as a bag of potatoes, still watching you.

“Y/N is a new face for him, he’s just curious, Touya,” Rei said, smoothing Shouto’s hair down as Touya hefted him in his arms. Shouto reached out a hand towards you, fat fingers flexing.

“What, you think I’m some taxi service who’s gonna bring you wherever you want to go?” Touya demanded. Shouto ignored him, his little chubby arm wavering.

Strangely, something compelled you to step closer, reaching out a hand in return. Shouto seized it in his pudgy little fist, staring up at you with solemn eyes. His other hand reached out to you, too, twisting in Touya’s grip, and Touya let out an annoyed scoff.

“Y/N didn’t come here to hang out with you,” he said. But Shouto ignored him, his little hand fisting in your tee shirt. He seemed to be trying to lever himself up out of Touya’s arms and into yours.

You were startled, never having held a baby before, and Shouto was kind of a big one. But Touya showed you how to hold him under his butt and across his back, and you heard the rustle of his diaper as he was handed off to you.

“Hi Shouto,” you said, watching him watch you.

His eyebrows raised, some small happiness lighting up his expression, and he gave a little kick that wiggled his whole body in your arms.

“He likes you,” Rei said over the counter top, as she settled a cutting board and a pile of vegetables across it.

You looked back at Shouto, feeling weirdly pleased. Maybe babies weren’t that bad.

Touya made an annoyed sort of grunt, stomping past you. “We’re going to play in the living room,” he announced imperiously. You glanced at Rei to make sure that was okay, then followed Touya, Shouto heavy in your arms.

By the time you arrived, Shouto had settled a hand on either of your cheeks and seemed to be trying to stare directly into your soul, and Touya patted him firmly on the back, clucking. “Stop being such a little freak.”

“He’s fine,” you said, bemused. No one had told you really little kids were this intense and weird. But Shouto’s little round face was kind of sweet, and it was hard to be annoyed at a baby staring up at you, that clearly enamored.

“Actually he’s being way nicer to me than you,” you told Touya.

Touya rolled his eyes and busied himself pulling out a horde of action figures, legos, puzzles, and games, as well as a turtle with multi-colored blocks set into it that appeared to be for Shouto.

“Oi, it’s turtle time, weirdo,” he told Shouto.

That seemed to break the baby’s singular focus on you, and he peered around, lighting up nearly the same way when he saw his blocks as he had when he’d seen you. You laughed, and helped him settle on the floor next to you, watching his clumsy, chubby grip fumble on the blocks as he carefully removed them one-by-one from the plastic turtle.

Touya set up the legos around you, an older parallel of his brother, though you thought he would kill you for saying so.

A block appeared in your lap, carefully and deliberately placed by a fat-fingered hand. You smiled down at Shouto, picking it up and gesturing grandly. “For me?”

A grey-and-blue gaze attached itself solemnly to your face, as if awaiting your judgment, and an instant fondness swept over you. Who knew babies could be this cute—when they weren’t screaming and crying and generally being small and annoying near you. Touya had massively undersold his little brother, who was the sweetest baby you’d ever encountered.

You bowed your head, clutching your gifted block close to you. “Thank you, Shouto. It’s very nice.”

Shouto stared up at you, smiling a shy little almost-smile, clearly pleased. You couldn’t help but reach up and ruffle that distinct tuft of hair, taken with him already. Yep, definitely a good little kid.

And you decided then and there that you liked Todoroki Shouto—though for now he was a child—you both were children—and he could only mean so much to you.

You wouldn’t realize how much he’d actually come to mean to you, until many, many years later.

Now

Touya’s white mess of hair was the first thing you spotted as you stumbled into the restaurant.

Outside it was unseasonably cold, an icy wind tearing through you as you’d rushed all the way from your mother’s house. The inside of the restaurant was blessedly warm, and slightly smoky from the meat and vegetables grilling away on each table top. Touya was on the far side, and you could see Rumi’s white hair beyond him, Keigo’s blonde riot of waves peeking over the top of the booth next to him.

Rumi faced the door so she spotted you first, a mouth-splitting grin overtaking her face as she waved you down.

You hurried your way over, letting out a surprised hrrk! when Rumi drew you down into a rib-crushing hug, her alpha strength barely contained. You fell into the seat at an awkward angle, your joints screaming.

“Well look what the cat dragged in! You don’t look a bit changed, you little beta cuck,” she crowed, making you choke on a laugh as you almost inhaled a mouthful of her hair.

“Rumi—!” you sputtered, half-pleased and half-scandalized that she clearly hadn’t changed in the years since you’d seen her last. She crushed you to her harder, and you could feel your eyeballs all but bulging like a rubber doll.

“If you plan to crush her to death you could at least wait until I clear the scene,” came Touya’s disaffected drawl from the other side of the table. “The last thing I need is police on my case again.”

That was so typical of him, too, after all this time.

“Good to see you too, Touya,” you said, even though you couldn’t get a look at him through Rumi’s hair. She ground her knuckles into the top of your head for good measure before releasing you, and you came up for air gratefully, watching the two men on the other side of the table grin at you.

Keigo looked exactly as you’d left him, a little bit more filled out than the skinny teen he’d been, the same wiry facial scruff growing in, those golden eyes alight with typical playfulness. Touya looked like he’d aged the most, his scars—fresher when you’d graduated—now deepened to the color of dark bruises. His features were still achingly familiar under them, however, the fine-boned prettiness of his mother shining through, his father’s blazing cerulean eyes the only nod to the other half of his parentage.

“So you really obeyed mommy dearest huh,” Touya said, pinning you with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes at him. As your closest childhood friend, he still knew all your weak spots, your mother the biggest of them. Growing up she’d been lonely and overworked, and you’d tried to care for her and please her the best you could. You still called her several times a week and sent back your wages to help pay for the house, and pay down the pile of debt your father had left her in when he’d died.

The concession of returning home for a few days to attend the annual mating run, as pointless as it was going to be, was the least you could do for her.

“You know as well as I do that no one is going to run down a beta,” you said, settling yourself in next to Rumi and shedding your coat and hat. “Especially not now that I’m well past newly-presented. It’ll be like a vacation.”

“You never know,” Keigo said, raising his fluffy eyebrows at you, his grin wicked. You flung the pile of your things across the table at him, but he intercepted easily, all alpha reflex. He stuffed your jacket down next to him, laughing at you.

“I do know,” you said emphatically. “And I’m not fussed about it. I don’t know who she thinks is going to pay her bills if I’m off getting dicked down by some knothead idiot.”

Touya made a dismissive noise and you looked around the table for something to fling at him too. He’d never had to worry about money, his future shored up with the Todoroki family fortune, built over generations and then basically quadrupled by his father. Since coming out of the correctional facility for a string of petty crimes, Touya had been skating by on family generosity, and you knew he wasn’t about to stop.

“Just burn her house down like mine,” he said, an unholy grin overtaking his face as he leaned forward. There was a light behind his eyes like he wasn’t entirely kidding. No one had ever been able to determine if the Todoroki family fire had been an accident or not, although Touya claimed it had been.

But you’d known Touya your whole life and you had your suspicions. Touya had hated his father for nearly all of your living memory—and the Todoroki men had an almost disturbing single-mindedness about them. You had long wondered if Touya’s fixation on his break with Enji had ever played into the fire that ravaged their house during your middle school years.

The one exception to the Todoroki single-mindedness was sweet little Shouto, who you’d last seen at your high school graduation. He was several years younger than you and had still been round-faced and chubby-cheeked then, all wide solemn eyes and pouty little mouth, just like when he was a baby.

You hadn’t seen him since, but couldn’t imagine Shouto turning out anything like Touya.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” you said to Touya, not liking how his grin widened.

Purportedly he’d come out of the correctional facility for good behavior, his record squeaky clean.

Purportedly.

“So why even agree to the run?” Rumi asked. “If you’re not looking to actually take anyone home?”

You helped yourself to the water that had been laid out before answering. “It’s just easier to appease my mother. She gets what she wants—some indication I’m open to my life mate-–and I get what I want, which is to be able to use this as an excuse next year.”

“Aww you won’t come back to see little old us?” Keigo asked. His tone was wheedling but his eyes tracked your expression carefully, always observing.

You smiled at him. You did miss your old friends, and you liked how easy it felt to sink right back into them after so many years away. You wanted to see them outside of the confines of a group chat or the rare facetime.

And you missed a lot about the town you’d grown up in. You liked the tiny storefronts of the downtown shops and the easy access to the coast and miles of hiking trails. You’d had a dream of opening up a little bookstore in one of the lovely brick buildings downtown when you were younger—but that was back before the staggering number of dollar signs on your mother’s bills had made themselves known to you and the romance of your daydream had begun to seem more like foolishness.

The bigger cities offered the bigger jobs, the bigger wages to send home. Even if it meant you could only see your friends every few years and mostly kept in touch via group chat.

“How about you guys come to me?” you asked. “There’s a chicken place I think Keigo will want to make the trip for.”

Keigo’s grin widened and he leaned in, interested. “Say no more,” he drawled.

On the table top, Touya’s phone vibrated. He peered at it, dismissing the notification with a swipe. “Rei wants to see you,” he reported, the usual blend of disrespect and unwilling fondness for his own mother layered in his voice. “She says you should come by the house.”

You smiled, pleased to be remembered. “I’d love that. Who’s living there now?”

Touya stretched, his back brushing the booth. “I do. And she does. Enji visits sometimes—” his tone was pointedly colorless “—and Fuyumi and Natsuo come by a couple times a week. Shouto is there almost daily for dinner when he’s not on shift, because his own cooking is absolute shit.”

You blinked, struggling to reconcile the idea of sweet-faced little Shouto with an adult who lived on his own now. “On shift?” you asked.

“He’s a fireman,” Touya rolled his eyes. “Little fucking do gooder. Ever since the house fire he’s wanted to.”

Your eyelashes fluttered again, your brain floating with the images of skinny, round-faced Shouto struggling to haul people out of a burning building. You struggled not to voice this disbelief.

“Wow, good for him,” you said.

“Not for me,” Touya complained. “Ever since he’s presented he’s been eating us out of house and home. Can’t find a fucking thing in the cabinets after he’s been through—”

And that shocked you, too, the idea that Shouto was already grown enough to have presented.

Objectively you knew he had to be into his early twenties at this point, but hearing the changes life had wrought on him was almost too much to contemplate. You wondered what he had presented as, and whether he’d be subject to the run this week as well. You’d always sort of suspected he’d be an omega, with that wide-eyed, beautiful face—almost a carbon copy of his mother’s, the same delicate prettiness in it as Touya.

And he’d been so sweet, too. When you’d been much, much younger—before Touya had become too cool and too emo for it—you remembered playing house together, remembered how often you’d dragged Shouto in to play the part of your son. He’d always sat there, a chubby-faced toddler, smashing blocks together and staring up at you with big eyes as you and Touya made plastic food and Touya unrolled a days-old newspaper collected from his father, bossing you around from his armchair.

Even when Shouto had gotten older and started to get as fresh with Touya as Touya was with him, he’d always been nice to you, always watched you with those same wide, mismatched eyes.

Yeah. He was most probably an omega.

“Well I’d love to see Rei, and Natsuo and Fuyumi and Shouto,” you said.

Touya stretched in the booth, not minding Keigo and thumping him right across the chest. Keigo squawked in annoyance.

“I’ll tell Rei you’re coming for dinner,” Touya said.

You smiled, pleased. You knew what a huge deal it was for both Touya and Rei to be in the same house again—both in recovery, both sharing the same space again.

When you’d left, Rei had been hospitalized and Touya had already been knee deep in petty crimes and utterly disinterested in any sort of overtures of help. For them to both be together again, getting regular help, with Enji out of the house and a rotating string of their family members checking in on them—you were happy to see them healing.

The buoyant feeling lasted all the way through lunch and too many drinks, until Touya shepherded you out of the restaurant, blazing a familiar path towards his family home. You followed, gratified when you saw that the Todoroki house was just as you remembered it, even the rebuilt pieces nostalgic.

Its grandness had been a shock to you as a child—not only in comparison to the tiny, squashed little two bed you’d grown up in—but that Touya had grown up there, in so vast and elegant a space. Touya who you dug in the dirt with. Touya who picked bugs out of the mud and put them on you. Touya who turned his nose up at dolls and ate things right out of your lunch box without asking, like he was a starving child without any access to food.

The house said otherwise.

Touya treated the Todoroki mansion with the same pointed lack of care he had as a teenager, kicking in the door as he led you inside, throwing his things in a pile in the entry. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, fondly nostalgic over his shithead behavior.

“You missed a spot—I think there’s a bare patch of floor over there,” you said.

Touya gave you a narrow-eyed gaze over his shoulder as he uttered a string of objects you might suck.

You raised your eyebrows at him, smiling and unbothered. He’d always said it was your beta nature that left you unfussed with his various attitudes, taking everything in stride. You didn’t know if that was true—you’d always sort of suspected it was the strange, inherent connection you felt to him, and to the Todoroki family at large that kept you fond of him, even as he descended into teenage fury.

You didn’t know what it was, as you’d not ever felt it with your other friends’ families who you’d spent nearly as much time with. But if it netted you a lifelong friend, you weren’t about to question it.

Rei was in the kitchen like she had been that first day Touya brought you home, an enormous expanse of marble counter and vaulted ceiling that made her look unfathomably small. Her snow white hair had been cropped short into a page boy cut and made her look younger than her years, especially when she glanced up at you with the very same smile she had when you were a child.

“Welcome back, Y/N,” she said. You bowed respectfully, Touya scoffing and grabbing the back of the collar to haul you up.

“She’s not the fucking prime minister,” he grunted.

“And you’re not the boss of me,” you sniped, the drinks you’d both shared at lunch making you a little looser tongued in front of Rei than you’d have liked.

“Shouto will be by in just a few minutes as well, and he’ll be so happy to see you,” Rei said, smiling gently.

“Shouto lives on his own?” you asked, curious. Aside from picturing him as the skinny preteen you’d last seen him as, you also had trouble imagining kind, sweet little Shouto leaving his mother on her own—and with Touya definitely counted as on her own, for all the help he was. Shouto seemed devoted, familial.

“He’s wanted his own space since he presented,” Rei said lightly, clearly unbothered.

It was rare for omegas to peel off from their family units before finding a mate, and the strangeness of striking out on his own struck you even further. Maybe he wanted a nest to bring someone back to, after finding the right person?

You wondered if he was going to be participating in this year’s mating run, and made a mental note to try and find out if he wanted help avoiding any undesirable alphas. If he was an omega, your beta scent would help disguise some of his tracks, you’d just have to follow in his footsteps far enough away from the main track that a ranging alpha wouldn’t accidentally stumble upon it.

That thought was cut short, however, by the sound of the door creaking open in the foyer you’d just come in from. There was the sound of rustling fabric, like someone shedding their coat, and then footsteps padded through the hall. A hint of a scent met your nose, slightly sweet and smoky, with an undercurrent of something fresh—like a campfire burning on a cold, clear day. Your brow furrowed, the frostiness an almost-familiar dimension, like Rei's cold widlflower scent. Who was—?

Then a tall, unfamiliar alpha poked his head through the door, fluffy red and white strands of hair tangling across his forehead. He was an arresting sight—easily the most beautiful person you had ever seen, every single one of his features so perfectly and evenly placed, like he'd been put together deliberately. He looked startlingly like Rei, if Rei were a man, except for the fiery blue of his left eye, the shock of scarlet hair above it.

You stared at this new interloper, confused, until you were seized with a sudden memory of that scar, that same mop of hair bent over a turtle-shaped block puzzle.

No. No fucking way.

Rei smiled, opening her arms, and you gaped after him as Todoroki Shouto prowled across the kitchen to her, enveloping her in a hug. Where Touya was taller than his mother, his baby brother almost dwarfed her, easily clearing six feet, his shoulders broad and his frame packed with dense muscle. He'd always had the same elegant, sweetly beautiful set to his features that his mother and Touya did, but there was something sharper about them now, a slightly more alpha edge to him.

An enormous bicep shifted against the sleeve of his t-shirt as Shouto held Rei, and suddenly it was very clear how Shouto had managed to become a firefighter.

Something pinched your arm, hard, and you whipped around to stare at Touya accusingly. “Ouch!”

He smirked. “Don’t fucking stare like he does.”

You scowled at him, and opened your mouth to say something unsavory, until two mismatched eyes turned on you, pinning you in place.

“Y/N,” Shouto said. His voice was deep as midnight—so much lower than you had remembered—careful and smooth. The sound of it slithered up your spine like a shiver.

“Shouto?” you answered, stepping closer. “You’re Shouto? Are you sure?”

Shouto released his mother, only the tiniest corner of his mouth twitching. And that was confirmation enough. Shouto had always been a little serious, watching you carefully and intently. He was most like his mother that way—withdrawn, a little bit solemn.

“As far as I am aware,” he said. His tone was flat but you heard the tease in it, regardless. And that was so like him too, couching his inner little shit under the most serious tone, under those earnest heterochromatic eyes.

“Wish he wasn’t,” Touya muttered.

“Oh my god, Shouto. You’ve grown up so much,” you said, a strange thrill zinging up your spine as he stepped closer. That scent like campfire on a cold day washed over you, making you a little dizzy.

Shouto’s eyes got a little bit round at the edges, and something pulled at the corner of his mouth again, an expression you didn’t recognize. His tone was soft as he observed, “You are exactly the same as I remember.”

You could tell he meant it kindly, so you chose not to be offended with his obvious tact. You were well aware you were not a fresh-faced high school graduate anymore.

“I’m definitely older than you remember,” you said, resisting the urge to poke him in the chest. Your hand felt magnetized toward it for some reason. “Don’t be surprised if you hear my bones creaking all the way from the preserve during the run.”

Something sudden and strange passed over Shouto’s face, those mismatched eyes narrowing in on you.

“You’re running,” he said, his tone suddenly flat. “This year.”

“Yeah I’m back in town for it,” you said, ignoring Touya’s scoff at your side. “Gotta appease my mother. She doesn’t get that betas aren’t the target crowd for this, nevermind ancient ones. That, and I plan to disappear up a tree if someone so much as sniffs in my direction.”

“Up a tree,” Shouto repeated, sounding contemplative.

You wondered if he was internalizing how weird you were. He probably wouldn’t have remembered you being weird, considering how younger kids never thought to question their older peers. Maybe he’d even thought you cool when you were growing up together—you’d quickly disabuse him of that notion.

You nodded. “I’ve only been followed by alphas twice and both times I lost them up that big willow overlooking the bay, if you take the seaside path out two miles?”

Shouto’s eyes tracked you closely, like he was committing every word to memory. “I know it.”

You smiled. “The sea breeze is just enough to hide a beta’s scent, once you’re out of sight up there. I hope the city life hasn’t gotten me too out of shape to get up the trunk. Though to be frank I’m not too worried about it this year. Are you running?”

“Yes,” Shouto said, so quickly that it looked like he’d startled himself.

Touya’s head whipped around to stare at him, and Rei’s eyelashes fluttered momentarily, a weird stillness overcoming her—until a sort of look of understanding came over her features. You thought you caught a hint of a smile as she ducked her head to return to her dinner preparations.

“Thought you said you weren’t interested,” Touya said, his tone accusing. “You’ve never run before.”

Shouto looked deeply unfussed by his older brother’s sudden consternation. “Perhaps I have changed my mind.”

“The hell you did,” Touya said snottily. “You said you knew you wouldn’t find your life mate there.”

“Perhaps that has changed too,” Shouto said, his tone so dry that you could tell he was purposefully needling Touya. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Brothers.

Touya’s scoff overlaid the thump of Rei’s knife as she returned to chopping, and you realized how rude it looked for the three of you to be standing there arguing while she was working.

You hurriedly stepped around Touya and Shouto, peering over Rei’s shoulder. For some reason you were hyperaware of Shouto as you passed him, a thought you shoved right back out of your mind as you approached Rei. “Is there anything I can help with? I feel like I have years of free dinners to pay you back for.”

“I am almost done, but thank you, Y/N,” Rei said, as Touya said something in a haughty tone of voice, and Shouto’s low baritone answered. Rei’s mouth quirked softly at this—and you realized it was the same way Shouto smiled, small and private.

“—Not bringing home some weird fucking omega,” Touya was saying when you turned back to the boys. You startled when you realized Shouto had shifted to face you instead of his brother, and his body language looked like he was mostly ignoring him.

You channeled your sudden laugh into a fake cough. Touya eyed you sourly, long used to your tricks.

“Well if you want any help on the run, let me know,” you told Shouto, cutting into their argument with the practice of a beta used to diffusing things, especially between Touya and others. Shouto’s mouth twitched again like he knew what you were doing, and you watched his eyes pick over you speculatively.

You marveled at how far back you had to tilt your head if you wanted to look him directly in the eye now. He was so big, and so unexpectedly handsome—he really had grown up well. Some omega was going to be very, very pleased at the end of this week, provided he really did go after someone.

“If it’s your first you probably won’t know all the best hiding spots,” you told him.

Not that they were really hiding spots, considering most omegas wanted to be found. And there was no one on this earth who wouldn’t want to be found by an alpha who looked like Shouto did now. But he’d probably want to make sure he got to his intended first, before any other alpha found them.

Shouto nodded, leaning forward conspiratorially. “I will take you up on that,” his tone was low, intimate.

You smiled up at him, though something weird twinged in your chest. “Lunch sometime this week then? I’ll walk you through everything.”

Touya made a noise of disgust, and you shushed him. Shouto’s smile pulled into a quarter-moon sliver, sweet and beautiful. “I would like that.”

A strange little thrill zinged down your spine. You very pointedly did not think about it, instead shooting Shouto a thumbs up. And then, seized by a sudden need to get away, you marched forward to grab Touya by his collar, dragging him out into the dining room.

“Do you have to make your mother do everything? Let’s set the table,” you ordered him, shoving him at the cabinets. Touya swore at you, trying to twist his lanky body out of your hands, spitting like a wet cat.

But your mind was already elsewhere, occupied by this strange new turn of events. It really had been a long time away from your hometown, and much more had changed than you realized. You’d missed seeing Touya start to recover his life, you’d missed Rei returning to herself, you’d missed Shouto growing up into a man—and an alpha. You were suddenly overcome by the feeling that you did not want to miss any more, did not want to leave again—though of course that was foolishness.

The run was less than a week away, and you had train tickets back into the city just after.

And you had your mom to provide for, much as she wanted you to settle down with the first rando who got handsy with you in the woods. An alpha would have to bring more than an interest in you to your coupling in order to win you—and that was not going to happen, especially not to a beta, and especially not to you.

You laid the dishes out, resolving yourself. You’d enjoy this week, but never lose sight of the fact that you’d still have to leave at the end of it.

After all, it wasn’t like some miraculous twist of fate was lurking just around the corner of the Todoroki kitchen, ready to change your life.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #shouto x you #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki x you #todoroki x y/n #shouto x y/n #todoroki shouto imagine #bnha x reader #andie's writing #character: todoroki shouto

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ssahoodrathotchner · 1 year

Text

Comfort

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Summary: on the plane back from Alaska, you and Penelope tease Aaron and Derek

Word Count: 900 words

Warnings: fluff, discussion of the Alaska episode, stealing Aaron’s quarter zip

A/N: this team needs to tell each other they love each other more often smh . I started this fic in November of 2020 !! it’s taken me over two years to get it done !! holy shit !!

Masterlist

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The case in Alaska had been rough. On the return flight home, Emily and JJ quickly claim the couch, a soft blanket thrown over their laps as they talk no louder than a whisper. Rossi and Reid sit across from each other in the back, a glass of scotch in the hand of one, a book in the other’s, as they unwind in their own ways. You and Aaron sit across from Penelope and Derek at the larger table. Tucked under Aaron’s arm, you mirror the friends opposite from you. One of your hands stretched across the table between you to grasp one of hers and provide silent comfort.

Before getting on the jet, you had commandeered Aaron’s quarter zip for your own use—you were cold, what can you say—although it didn’t hurt that you love the way it fell over your body and smelled like him. Leaning further into his side, you look at the case report he was dutifully filling out.

He never stops, does he?

Stifling a yawn, you settle in for a long flight back home. You had a book in your bag somewhere, but you didn’t want to move; not with Penelope’s hand in yours and Aaron’s arm around you, safe. Shifting a bit more to get comfortable enough for a nap, Aaron sets down his pen to stare down at you, eyebrows raised, amused smirk on his lips.

“Sweetheart,” he says, only a little exasperated with your movement.

“Hmm?” you answer, feigning obliviousness to just how much you’re disturbing him.

He sighs and rolls his eyes before turning you slightly and then locking his arm around your shoulders and then pulling you into him with your head resting more comfortably against his chest.

“Better?” he asks with a small but knowing smile.

“I guess,” you say, scrunching your nose.

Aaron leans down to kiss the top of your head before once again picking up his pen and continuing to do paperwork. Your hand hasn’t left Penelope’s and so you turn your attention there; gently moving your thumb back and forth across her knuckles, tracing random patterns, and just squeezing it as you think.

Sinking further into Aaron—and his incredibly warm quarter zip—you reflect on the case. The fact that it was a teenager killing all the townspeople—even his best friend’s mother—was unsettling, to say the least. Suppressing a shiver, you move to lace Garcia’s fingers with your own, which she reciprocates with a squeeze, continuing to watch a movie on her laptop with Derek.

Penelope. Kind, strong, brilliant Penelope who sat with a man in his last moments, alone in the dark, because she didn’t want him to be alone. Penelope who took time to compose herself before coming back with renewed energy, determined to catch the unsub with mascara tears still on her cheeks. And you wouldn’t have been able to do it without her.

“Hey,” you say softly, tugging on her hand to get her attention. “Pen. Penelope”

She turns to look at you, making a show of looking away from the movie, which makes Derek smirk at her antics.

“Yes, my brilliant beloved agent?” she responds with a smile.

“I love you,” you say earnestly, squeezing her hand. “I love you and we couldn’t function without you.”

Her gaze softens, and you can see the tears that seemingly spring to her eyes.

“Hey,” she starts softly, “I love you too.”

“And you,” you assert, turning to Derek, “I love you.”

He smiles and huffs a laugh, “Right back at you, Princess.”

“You too, Hotch!” Penelope grins, looking to where Aaron is valiantly trying to hide his smile.

“Yeah, Hotch,” you tease, leaning into him more, “We love you too.”

Derek laughs at this point, pulling your attention to him.

“What,” you ask playfully, “Don’t you love Hotch, Morgan?”

This makes him laugh louder, Penelope joining in as you smile so hard your face hurts.

Aaron turns his attention to Morgan, schooling his expression into his usual stoic mask.

“I love you, Derek,” he states seriously, as you and Penelope burst into giggles.

Morgan quickly catches on, making his own faux-serious face, as he reaches across the table to take Aaron’s hand.

“And I love you, Hotch,” he says, matching Aaron’s tone.

You and Penelope are gasping now, the hilarity of the situation at hand mixing with the absolute devastation of the case you finished. You can feel the eyes of the rest of the team on you, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’ve found that taking moments of levity where you can is essential to not breaking down 24/7 given that your job routinely shows you to the worst parts of human behavior.

“And I love you!” Penelope sing-songs, looking over at Spencer, “And you, and you, and you, and you!” she continues, looking at each member of the team.

You fall into laughter with the rest of the team, as you all give in to Penelope’s contagious adoration.

Aaron drops a kiss on the top of your head and you reach to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw in return, watching as the stress of the case seems to melt away from everyone.

Leaning further into Aaron’s embrace, you close your eyes, reveling in the pleasant atmosphere that’s permeated the plane.

No matter what, with these people by your side, you know you’ll be okay.

---

Taglist: @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @averyhotchner @prentisswrites @mylovelysnowflake @hqtchner @fakin-it-til-i-make-it @emlynblack @clarawatson @andromedasstarship @madamsnape921 @mac99martin @midsummernightdream @itsmytimetoodream @homoose @whosscruffylooking @agentaaronhotass @thenewnormalforensicator @myloveofcmreid @ssahotchie @romanogersendgame

#andi writes #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #derek morgan #emily prentiss #spencer reid #jennifer jareau #david rossi #criminal minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #cm fanfic

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andromedaexists · 7 months

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*crawls out of my writing hole to scream*

HI HELLO I HAVE NEWS FOR Y'ALL

So we all know my book baby, Call Me Icarus. Well, he's got a face now! May I present to you the cover reveal for Δάιος, the first book in the Call Me Icarus trilogy:

For those of y'all who don't know, Δάιος is an Anti-Establisment grimdark retelling of the fall of Icarus as he looks behind the curtain of the Elysian Program and sees the disgusting framework he was disillusioned to. Now, the only thing on his mind is burning the program to the ground, but will he be able to when the world (and his body) is set against him?

Are you a fan of trans men being the worst? queer people making bad decisions? blood?? Good, I've got it all right here in this book. I have a feeling y'all will love Icky baby

After a year of working on this bad boy, Δάιος is just about ready to release into the world! There have been a lot of highs and lows on this journey, a lot of winds in the road, but we are rapidly approaching our destination.

You can add Δάιος on GoodReads now! It is also available for pre-order (eBook only for now, physical copies will be available in paperback and hard cover on october 10th! both on Amazon as well as my own webbed site)

TAGLIST

@flowerprose @isherwoodj @cream-and-tea @touchingmadness @lockejhaven @marinesocks @wildswrites @the-finch-address @writingpotato07 @leighvalentin @inkspellangel @cljordan-imperium @outpost51 @alleahgrinnon @smol-feralgremlin @crypticcodexcreations

I will also make a post when the book releases! Thank y'all for being here with me through this journey, I love and appreciate each and every one of yous <3

#call me icarus #wip update #writing #writeblr #wip excerpt #wupdate #tragedy #adult fantasy #dark fantasy #andi writes

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cafecitowriter · 26 days

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Wednesday 100 - To Peggy, With Love

Graphite marks wrinkled paper, mimicking impossibly perfect brown pin curls. A wave of inspiration struck him in the dressing room at the half hour call, and he’s determined to finish it before he’s forced away from her. Again.

He’s been drawing her for months, in-between scenery of places they’ve performed in and dancing monkeys. Agent Carter graces the pages of his notebook more often than he’d ever dare admit aloud.

The letters she writes him remain tucked inside that same notebook.

Maybe one of these days, he’ll be brave enough to include one of these portraits in his reply.

Also posted to AO3

Written for Steggy Month at @steggyfanevents - Week 1: Peggy Carter. While it's technically from Steve's POV she's his forever muse.

#steggymonth #wednesday 100 #steggy #steve rogers #peggy carter #andi writes

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ellen-reincarnated1967 · 1 year

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Almost ten years of marriage and a loving son, you come home to your new house, to put this loving son to bed, when you see it.

His phone is open, a chat is visible, it’s not your name.

You read it, because you’ve had doubts for years, because it’s not the first time he’s hurt you, but because this time it hits differently.

You’re angry. You’re stoic. Not a single butterfly takes flight in your stomach, but a single, steel corset is cinched around your heart. You can feel the throbbing beats in your ears as you ascend the stairs to your son’s bedroom.

Cellphone in hand, you hand it to the offender, you ask simply, “who is she?” Cue the dead eyes, the dumb stare of a man who is caught. A man who attempts to say “she’s no one,” but if that were true, why was he planning to go on “an adventure” of touching and who knows what else?

You take your son from the offender’s arms, calmly you kiss him, as he is transitioning to slumber and look the man you had loved in the eyes and tell him, “you need to get out.”

“You need to just go,” you tell him once more. To his back, that retreats out the door, and out of the house you were making a home.

“If you have any respect for me left,” you tell him, “you’ll just go.”

He’s gone.

Yet he texts you, ignoring your request for space, he spirals, and you can’t sleep, can’t work, can barely keep your head above water.

You want to separate, tear him from your limbs, but he’s still there, tied to your heartstrings. You wish you could just snip, snip, snip until he’s gone.

Your son is your saving grace. Always has been. But you can’t help but wonder what you’re doing to him too.

#andi writes #personal #not spn #where do I go from here

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puck-luck · 8 days

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not-so quickie | jack hughes

warnings: morning sex, unprotected p in v, thigh riding, dirty talk, jack as a boob guy for SURE, pet names, domesticity, jack x y/n being precious partners fo'eva pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader summary: the one when reader and jack's morning antics leave jack rushing to get to training. wc: 1967

Whenever you wake up in the same bed as Jack, which was more often than not nowadays, his dick is poking the small of your back or it’s nestled right against the curve of your ass. Either Jack is pulling you into him in his sleep or you’re pressing back into him in your sleep, but the way you get into this position doesn’t actually matter because it always ends in the same outcome: you, awake, because Jack has his morning wood. This morning, the tight grip Jack’s hands has on your hip explains the events of the night perfectly.

Despite the closeness between your bodies, you manage to turn to face Jack without waking him up. You trace the line of his nose, the freckles on his cheeks, and thumb over his bottom lip.

Still asleep, Jack sighs at your light touch and pulls you as close as he can, slipping his thigh between your legs. You smile, feeling like a beam of light could erupt from your chest with how fond you are for this boy. His eyelashes flutter and the corner of his lip twitches. You can tell he’s fighting to stay asleep and you don’t blame him– the bed is comfortable, warm, and he doesn’t have to be at his off-season training for almost an hour and a half.

“Jacky,” you whisper, watching as his nose scrunches when he loses the battle.

“No,” he groans, voice thick with sleep. He feels blindly for the hem of your big shirt, the only thing you wore to bed last night, and pulls it up until he can pull it over his head. He kisses the space between your boobs before he relaxes and tries to fall back asleep.

You giggle when his breath washes over your chest, partially because it tickles and partially because you know that if Jack could climb into your skin, he would.

“Good morning, sweet boy,” you say, scraping your fingernails down Jack’s back in soothing movements.

“G’morning,” comes Jack’s muffled reply. “You woke me up.”

When you pull your shirt collar away from your chest to peek down at him, Jack’s got that trademark Hughes pout written across his face. His eyes reflect betrayal, but you know he’s not really mad.

“You woke me up,” you parrot back at him.

Jack lets out a “hmph!” of displeasure at that. “Clearly, one of us is lying. That’s not possible.”

“Your little friend poked me awake.” You poke Jack to emphasize your point.

He laughs and his movements shake you. He adjusts you in his arms so you can feel the press of his, still hard, “little friend” against your hip. “This guy?” He asks.

You hum, nodding. “That’s the one.”

“Poked you awake?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Well, that’s not very nice of him, is it?”

“Not at all.”

“What should we do about that?”

“I don’t think he should get to have any fun for the next week.”

Jack retreats from under your shirt at that and hovers above you. “A week?” He repeats, disbelief dripping from his words. “No, pretty girl, that’s cruel and unusual punishment. That’s against the Constitution.”

You laugh and press a hand to his chest. “Since when are you such a patriot?”

“I know my rights.” Jack leans down to kiss the side of your neck, then blows a raspberry in the same spot.

You shriek and twist away from him, but Jack’s hands keep you firmly underneath him. His thigh keeps you pinned in place and offers some solid pressure to your core. His dick is still pressed against your hip and even though you’re both laughing as you try to evade his wandering lips and fingertips, you can practically feel him throbbing with the contact.

“Jack!” You squeal when he digs his fingers into your sides. You reach down and grab his wrists, trying to stop him from making any more moves, but he easily reverses your grip so he’s holding your wrists instead. He presses them down into the pillow above your head and your breath catches. His eyes are on yours and time suspends, the air thick between you two.

You’re breathing heavily and Jack’s got that barely-there smile on his face. He bites his lip, then licks it.

You’re not even registering how your hips grind down on his thigh until he looks down to where you’re touching. You look too and gasp, remembering that you are completely bare on his thigh when you see the patch of wetness glistening on his skin.

When you look back up, Jack is staring at you with something akin to determination in his hooded eyes.

“Not so upset about being woken up now, huh?” He teases, tensing his thigh and leaning into you.

“Shut up,” you breathe out, tilting your hips up to meet him.

Jack watches you without saying a word for a few minutes, a small smile present on his lips.

Your eyes are closed, your head is tilted back, your hair is loose and falling in a halo around your head. It’s tangled and tousled from your sleep. You’ve got a fading crease from the fabric of your pillow across your cheek. Your shirt has ridden up to reveal your stomach and Jack reaches out to place a hand on it. He spreads his fingers wide and licks his lips at how his hand looks covering you. You’re so beautiful, he thinks, I want to do this with you forever.

“Jack,” you moan, finally opening your eyes and looking into his. You continue to roll your hips against his thigh, so dense and strong and so there beneath you.

“Yeah, honey?” He replies, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “What do you need?”

“Want you inside me.” Your jaw drops when Jack thrusts his leg against your core, and stays there.

Jack looks over at the clock on your bedside table and thinks. He’s got a little over an hour before training, but he’ll have to shower and that could take five or thirty minutes depending on if you join him. He needs to cook and eat, which might take twenty minutes. The drive is fifteen minutes if he speeds (he does every time). He looks back at you and melts at the way you’re staring up at him, begging him for more with just your eyes.

“Fuck, can you be quick?” He asks.

“So close already, Jacky, just want you inside.”

Jack rolls onto his back and shoves his boxers down to his knees, pulling you on top of him. “Ride me. Make yourself feel good.”

You line him up with your entrance and sink down, feeling the breath seep out of you as he fills you up. You move your hips in slow circles, feeling him drag along your walls and press every delicious spot inside of you. You lean forward and stabilize yourself by putting both your hands on Jack’s abdomen. You can feel his abs tense as you start to move up and down on his cock.

He’s staring up at you like you’re a dream. He’s got a hand on your hip and a hand on your thigh, rubbing up and down on your smooth skin with his thumb. The only noises between you are the noises of pleasure that fall from your lips and the strangled breaths that fall from Jack’s. You take him how you want him, deep and consistent rather than fast and hard, and Jack wonders if, maybe, this is how life was meant to be lived all along?

When you pull your shirt over your head, Jack’s hand shoots up to knead your breast. He stares, mouth slightly parted, at the way they move when you continue to bounce on top of him and how they fill his palm, the weight of them causing him to smirk with pride. He’s a boob man at heart, always has been, and these tits are his, you’re his. He starts to thrust up into you once he’s got his hands on your tits, loving the way they feel under his fingers so much that he loses track of the fact that you were supposed to be keeping the pace you wanted.

Not that you mind.

You let him fuck up into you, the tip of his dick hitting your deepest point and making you a mess. “Jack,” you whine.

“Yeah, baby, that’s right,” Jack grunts out, one hand dropping to your side to pull you down into him in time with his thrusts up. “Say my name, tell me who’s making you feel good.”

You’re both sweating, a light sheen of sweat glistening on your bodies as the sun peeks through the curtains. If you looked behind you, you’d see the mess that you left on Jack’s thigh earlier. The messy hair that you love so much is starting to stick to his forehead, clumping up in strands that fall across the skin in the most beautiful way. They’re like that because of you, because of how good he’s making you feel, the effort he puts in, and it’s that knowledge that brings you one step closer to your orgasm.

“You look so,” you say, losing the words when Jack tilts his hips to meet that one spot inside of you. “Oh, fuck, Jack.”

“Gorgeous,” Jack tells you, finishing the sentence that you had started and abandoned. “Everything I ever wanted, my pretty girl, my baby. Wanna see you come, love, wanna see you make a mess all over my cock. C’mon, baby, come for me.”

He continues to urge you as your moans grow in pitch. He continues to slam into you and it’s the tortured whimper he lets out when you clench down on him that sets off your orgasm. You almost collapse on top of him as you move your hips frantically with his stuttering ones. Your hands press on his chest, your breasts dangling right there, right in front of him, and Jack comes.

“Fuck, baby,” he whines, looping an arm around your waist and fucking up into you wildly as he comes. He bites down and sucks on the skin of one of your tits as he comes down, pulling away to reveal a patch of his saliva that will certainly turn red, then purple, then blue over the next few hours.

You both breathe heavily after the high of your orgasms, with you gently rising off of Jack and removing him from the warmth of your pussy.

“Good morning,” Jack says again when you cuddle into his side, your head resting on his arm and your fingertips dancing over his stomach.

“Good morning,” you reply with a smile when his dick twitches at your movements.

Jack throws a glance over the top of your head towards the clock.

“Mm,” Jack groans as he pushes himself up. He kisses you, long and soft, before he gets up to go to the bathroom. “That didn’t go as quick as I needed it to. Now I have to rush.”

“You’re complaining?” You tease.

“Never. Never complaining about getting to spend time with my pretty girl.”

You beam as you hear the shower turn on. You slip on one of Jack’s dirty shirts that he left on the bedroom floor the night before and get out of bed yourself, still feeling the remains of the morning’s adventures on your thighs. Maybe, if you’re lucky, you can cut down on Jack’s time to get ready by making his breakfast for him, and he’ll reward you by bending you over the counter. He can never deny you another round when he sees himself dripping out of you so beautifully. That one, if you can swing it, will actually have to be quick.

notes: hi good morning readers yes here i am back again on a monday morning with more smut (i fear... i be thinking about this topic too much). and yet i am running out of things to write about because i do not want to write about the same three actions (a little fingering, a little oral, a little fucking) in every post because i fear that will get old for y'all. MORAL OF THE STORY: SEND REQUESTS! SEND ASKS! SEND COMMENTS ABOUT YOUR FAVORITE PLAYERS AND PEOPLE YOU WANT ME TO WRITE ABOUT! i need help <3 (yes, @johncena2020 i will eventually get to your Mr. Marino. i will.)

#puck-luck's fics #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes smut #jack hughes x y/n #nhl smut #nhl x reader #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #andy writes anything🍄

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